what time has not touched
by Graffiti My Soul
Summary: After the ending of DA2, Warden Commander Faye Amell is sent to aid Knight Commander Cullen in the rebuilding of Kirkwall. He's, uh, not too happy to see her. Neither is Viscount Ansel Hawke, but for entirely different reasons.  Originally a oneshot
1. seven years

Seven years.

It had been seven years since Cullen had last seen Faye Amell or Alistair Theirin, but he should have figured that they'd managed to stick together even after the Blight.

Ask for help from the King, and you got the Warden Commander of Ferelden as well.

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><p>Cullen sat behind Meredith's - no, his desk now - with his head in his hands. There were stacks of paper everywhere - neatly organized into piles for complaints and support letters from civilians, damage fees from Kirkwall's Maintenance division, pleas from mages, a message from the Divine herself - no matter how he attempted to make sense of the mess spread across the office, it seemed like the list of things he needed to deal with would never end.<p>

"Ser, Knight Commander, there's a- a _mage_, not one of ours, she wants to see you-" Avery, one of the newer recruits and the only of their newest batch to survive the recent...incident, came running down the hall, Templar armor clanging with each step, and yelling his message in a hoarse voice.

Cullen didn't bother to look up, too preoccupied with his musings of tossing his armor out the window and taking a permanent vacation in sunny Rivain. Blast Meredith for leaving him with all of this. "Inform her that I'm preoccupied with some important business at the moment and that she's free to schedule a proper appointment with me at a later time."

"No Commander, you don't understand, she's-"

"Excuse me, thank you ser." A gentle but firm voice spoke up, accompanying what sounded like a soft nudge (or a shove - their armor made abominable amounts of noise either way) to Ser Avery. Cullen heard the door shut and sighed.

"Serrah, I do not appreciate you barging into my office. You might understand that recent events in Kirkwall have not made the people here look kindly upon mages, regardless of your origins."

There was a light laugh, before the mage spoke again. "So very serious, Cullen? You don't look preoccupied, you appear to be brooding." Cullen looked up immediately - there had been a time, many long years ago, when hearing his name said by that voice's particular inflection was a rare and precious gift that he'd treasured. Even now, he still recognized it.

"..._Amell_. Or do you prefer Warden Commander now?"

The smile fell from her face, though Faye gamely tried to continue the line of familiarity. "Faye is fine, for an old friend. I believe you were the one who once told me that things wouldn't fix themselves on their own. I'm simply here to return the favor."

"We may have been acquaintances once, but it's been a long time since then. We're different people - there's no need to pretend this is some grand reunion. What is it you needed, Warden Commander?" Cullen returned stiffly. He focused his gaze on his papers again, trying to calculate how thinly he would have to spread his men in order to cover everything that needed to be guarded or secured or repaired...

Faye's eyes, indigo blue as ever, went flat and cold as she slid the mask of the Warden Commander over her face. If this was what Cullen wanted - then, then fine. This was what she'd give him.

"Officially, I'm here representing both the Grey Wardens and King Alistair of Ferelden. His Majesty would send more help if he could, but Ferelden's Circle is causing a great deal of fuss now - if you remember, it was given significant if not complete independence from Chantry control after the Blight and with the recent uprisings...Alistair's doing all he can just to keep his own country from falling apart, he can't spare much to aid Kirkwall."

"I'm not entirely surprised that the King would turn to you for diplomatic aid, considering your work during the Blight, but how does this relate to the Grey Wardens?" Cullen meant no harm by the question, despite his rough tone. It was not exactly how he'd pictured spending his morning, seeing his former adolescent crush for the first time in seven years.

He glanced up very quickly again, still trying to appear as if he was engrossed in his work. Perhaps not entirely former. She'd only grown into her looks as she grew and where before she had been pretty, now she was beautiful - even accounting for the scars.

His rapid observation missed the flash of anguish that twisted across her face for a moment.

"As representative of the Grey Wardens and the one who was once in direct command of him, I am here to reconfirm that Warden Anders was an inactive member of the Order and was released from service approximately five years ago soon after his part in the Battle of Amaranthine. Thus, the Order takes no credit or blame for his actions from 9:32 forward, including his-" Faye's voice broke for a second before she continued - "joining with the spirit Justice and the destruction of the Kirkwall Chantry. The Order has and still wishes to remain neutral in the ongoing debate between the mages and the Chantry and has no wish to associate itself with any concerns not related to darkspawn."

There was a deep inhale as Faye caught her breath from the lengthy message. "Now that my initial messages have been delivered, unless you have further use for me at this time I will take my leave and go to the Viscount. It's only recently come to my attention that I apparently share blood with Kirkwall's Champion."

After a short pause, Cullen finally rose from the desk. Faye's breath caught in her throat - Maker, it was so easy to forget small things, like how _tall _Cullen was, or how hard it was to look away when one could get him to focus his gaze on you. (In the old days, getting Cullen to look her in the eye was a rare thing that brightened her week immensely - now she had the feeling it was something he did regularly, and not quite as sweetly as he once did)

"You've listed all your official reasons," he said, voice deep and rich as that Orlesian drink made of_chocolat_, "But I've yet to hear any sort of unofficial reason for your visit."

Faye smiled weakly and headed for the door, stopping to twist her head back for her final words.

"Unofficially, I'm just here because I wanted to help someone who once meant a great deal to me. Alistair didn't have send me - I asked to come."

With that, she strode out of his office.

Cullen immediately collapsed back into his chair and groaned. Sometimes it seemed like the Maker was mocking him.

Seven years or not, he was hit with the sparkling clear revelation that it would be far too easy to fall in love with Faye Amell all over again.

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><p>[AN - Another part of the headcanon AU, this one takes place after the lovely finale of DA2. Hawke sided with the Templars and became Viscount. She technically killed Anders but...we'll get to what happened to him (and her) eventually. Faye and Cullen haven't seen each other since the events of Broken Circle. He's, uh, still not too happy with her...]


	2. a family reunion

A/N: ...Wow. So I posted this as a oneshot/drabble ish thing and marked it complete...but when I checked my inbox the next day, it was full of story alerts.

I'm going to take this as a not so subtle-hint that you guys want more XD I aim to please, so have a new chapter and my infinite gratitude for reading! The prompt to continue this has led to my imagination spiraling wildly out of control, and I fear there's going to be _a lot_ more than I'd ever planned. This will be my first real multichapter fic, so here goes nothing...

This is a lengthier chapter than the last one and not much really _happens_ – there's a lot of dialogue and monologue, I'm afraid. However, it introduces us to one of the more important characters of the story as well as some of the key issues, and hints of what's to come. Cullen and his dreamy, Templar-armored goodness will return next chapter!

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><p>Ansel Hawke was a happy woman.<p>

She was powerful, she was respected, and she was _feared._ She was Champion and Viscount of Kirkwall (They'd tried to explain that as a female, her title should be Viscount_ess_, but Ansel decided it sounded too flimsy, too arm-candy-wife-of-the-man-in-power,) and there wasn't a man, woman or child in her city that didn't know her story.

There were many versions of it, of course – gossips did love to twist tiny bits of truth, and storytellers like her dwarven companion always found the need to add glory and subtract the gore.

There was a lot of the latter, in Ansel's real story. More than anyone actually realized.

In any case, she'd finally gotten things at Viscount's Keep organized to her liking and had just sat down in her office with a genuinely pleased sigh when a knock came on the door.

"Yes Seneschal?" she called. Ansel had little patience for the man, but until she could get new help, he was one of the more competent inhabitants of the Keep and she'd kept him around out of necessity.

"There's a woman here who has been making a nuisance of herself at the Keep for _days_. She claims to be-"

The door was opened before the man could complete his sentence, a raven haired woman entering gracefully – or gracefully as one could while wearing heavy shoes. She was clad in a bewildering combination of armor, having replaced the feathers on the top half of her Tevinter robes with dragonbone pauldrons. The usual skimpy skirt had been exchanged for sensible, dark trousers and boots, more dragonbone apparent in the latter. The woman gave her a little smile and raised a glove-clad hand in greeting, her other, gauntleted one resting on the hilt of a very shiny sword made of some ore Ansel did not recognize.

"You might choose to inform your seneschal that I do not make _claims_," the stranger said casually. "I _stated _that I was the Warden Commander of Ferelden and King Alistair's chosen ambassador to Kirkwall, and that it was important for me to see you. Rather than doing the sensible thing, he has prevented me from contacting you for a proper appointment and forced me to barge into your office rather rudely." She made a show of bending into a little half-bow. "It seems I am simply fated to meet all of Kirkwall's authority in this way, for which I do apologize. I'm Faye Amell. It's a pleasure to meet you, Champion."

Ansel rose from her seat, her painted lips quirking into a broad smile even as her teeth clenched tightly. _Amell_. Did King Alistair suspect, sending her own, _dear_ cousin to meet and assist her in rebuilding? Did he think that just because she recognized the power and importance of blood, that family would make her pause?

He was a fool if he did, and a lucky one if this was simply coincidence.

"The pleasure is mine, Commander," she replied, clasping the other woman's hand in greeting. "My name is Ansel Hawke, but please. We are cousins, are we not? There should be no need for this formality." Ansel could respect Faye Amell – she was a powerful woman in her own right and certainly a figure to be feared. She was another mage who had managed to escape the Circle's hold and established herself.

However, from what she'd heard, the Commander was also something of an Andrastian and generally recognized as a do-gooder. Which had its place and purposes, of course, but unless she was a significantly better actor than Ansel thought...

She did not like this. Meredith and Orsino were finally _gone_, damnit, and the templars had all but told her that Kirkwall was hers. That had been a particularly gratifying moment, she had to admit. She would not – _could_ not – allow the sudden appearance of the Hero of Ferelden to disrupt her plans.

Then again, she also could not afford to offend Ferelden or the Grey Wardens by violently slaying their ambassador-slash-commander.

...It was so much easier to deal with the weak and the mad.

* * *

><p>Faye Amell did not like Kirkwall's Viscount. At all.<p>

In the first place, it had been a nightmare to even meet the woman. Her seneschal was a menace and clearly needed to learn a thing or ten from Varel.

She missed Varel. And the rest of the Wardens in Amaranthine, and Vigil's Keep itself. After all this time, they'd made it home. Her home, her Keep, her Wardens.

She shook her head lightly and returned her focus to the issue at hand – the fact that there was something _clearly wrong_ about the woman standing before her.

Ansel Hawke was not an attractive woman. Faye had rarely if ever been vain, though she maintained a certain level of self-confidence, and even she might appear to be a great beauty next to this cousin of hers. The Champion's skin was paler than even the oldest of Circle mages, reaching a point of translucency that allowed one to see the very veins that lay beneath. Her eyes were sunken in, her cheeks gaunt with bones at sharp attention, and her hair, the dull red of half-dried blood, had been twisted into a limp braid around her neck.

Even if one ignored her appearance, (it was something of a challenge to do so, but Faye tried to be a good Andrastian and had learned that appearances could mean very little) it was more difficult to pretend she didn't notice how utterly fake that smile was. Faye had spent the last seven years dealing with sly Banns and silver-tongued Arls who tried to express their displeasure with a mage Arlessa with varying levels of subtlety. Zevran and Leliana had taught her a necessary thing or two about reading faces, and Hawke was simply not very good at lying with her face.

Ansel Hawke was clearly the sort of woman who was probably more used to frightening people into line, and that alone disturbed Faye a little. Should such a person really be allowed to rule what was already such a broken place?

...And how awful must a place be to earn the nickname of the City of Chains?

"Indeed, we are. I offer my condolences for your losses – I would have greatly liked to meet my aunt and uncle, and your twin siblings as well." She lowered her head respectfully and bit her lip to prevent herself from speaking of the things she'd heard in her week here. Kirkwallers liked their gossip, and Faye was not above using slightly less acceptable means to get the information she needed.

She'd hoped the rumors concerning the death of Carver Hawke were simply slanderous, but now that she had met Ansel herself...it was not difficult to picture the other woman abandoning her only brother to the Taint and the Deep Roads. Or killing him herself.

There were other deeds that Ansel Hawke had to answer for, if some of the tales could be believed. The slaughtering of a Dalish clan, allowing a Tevinter magister to reclaim an elven slave who had fought beside the Champion and of course..._Anders_.

Nobody else in this city seemed to care about the fate of elves and slaves and apostate healers, so Faye would simply have to do it for them. Champion and Viscount or not, she _would_ see Ansel Hawke atone for her actions. Faye had dealt with the consequences of her choices during the Blight, and her cousin would not escape justice simply because of the position and power she now held.

_Justice_. How had the spirit gone so very wrong?

Ansel did not seem to notice the righteous anger that Faye was carefully withholding, and pulled out a chair for the Commander. "Your condolences are appreciated, if not necessary. I have made my peace with what has happened, and now my focus is on this city. What brings you here, cousin?"

Faye took the seat and waited for Ansel to return to her own before speaking. "Knight Commander Cullen sent a letter to King Alistair, requesting aid. I suppose it's only fair, considering half of Kirkwall's population is probably made of Ferelden refugees right now. Problem is, the incident with Kirkwall's Chantry has sparked trouble across Thedas and the King can't spare troops. I left my second at Amaranthine and came to see what I might be able to do." She clasped her hands and leaned across the desk, staring Ansel in the eye.

"The entire world has their eyes on Kirkwall right now, Champion. You and I are quite possibly two of the most influential mages outside of the Imperium – if we can set Kirkwall to rights, it may help set an example for others." Ansel gave her a steady look and fingered the ornate staff she always kept near with a frown.

"I had heard that the Hero of Ferelden was a mage, and you claim to be one, but you carry a sword and wear armor, of sorts." It was only a statement, but one tinged with all sorts of subtle accusations and questions.

Faye gritted her teeth and continued her endeavor at politeness. "I am a mage, and I am proud to be one. However, I received a rather _unpleasant _welcome upon my arrival in Kirkwall, and have since decided that displaying my talent in a city so recently destroyed by mages hardly seems sensible." She chose not to mention that she had learned the skills of an Arcane Warrior and thus could fight with blade and spells alike – it was only fair to keep the few advantages she had, in such unfamiliar territory, to herself. She never knew when it might come in handy.

Ansel nodded thoughtfully. There was probably more to it than that, but the Warden Commander's explanation was plausible. She would take it, for now.

"Well then. I would be grateful for your assistance, of course." Not really, but there were always necessary evils when in command. "Bringing Kirkwall to peace again is my priority right now, but there is also the issue of what to do with the Circle and the Templars."

Faye looked up sharply. "I had not heard that there were mages spared," she said stiffly. She could not help but think of what had happened in her own Circle, the demons and abominations that had run rampant and slaughtered everything dear –

"No. They were killed," Ansel confirmed. "There are, to my knowledge, only three living mages in Kirkwall right now. You and I, and a Dalish companion of mine. The question is whether or not we rebuild the Circle. The Templar Order exists because they must watch over the mages – if there is no Circle in Kirkwall, then their presence becomes...unnecessary. Surely, with the trouble brewing, the Templars are needed elsewhere?" With the Templars gone, everything would be so much _easier_...

"...The thought of bringing in mages to rebuild the Circle after what has happened in Kirkwall is an unpleasant one," Faye admitted. "And it is true that the Templars exist because of mages, but removing their presence from Kirkwall would surely offend the Chantry?" It went unspoken that the Chantry would not want a mage Viscount in a city without their holy knights.

_Faye_ wouldn't want to see Ansel ruling over a city without templars.

"The _Chantry_," Ansel sighed. "Really, such a..." She trailed off, remembering that the other member of the room would be unhappy if she spoke poorly of their religion. "Well. Perhaps this is something for you to discuss with the Knight Commander." She tilted her head towards the sword strapped to Faye's hip. "He might prefer to speak of this situation with someone less outwardly_ magic_ than I." That would work nicely, wouldn't it? Her cousin would be a perfect distraction for Knight Commander, and vice versa, and in the meantime Ansel could work on her own plans.

Faye looked unsure about the idea, but Ansel walked around the table and clapped her cousin on the shoulder. "No, I'm quite sure _you're _capable of reasoning with him. In the meantime, you should rest – where have you been staying?"

"I've been camping outside the city. It seemed preferable to..." Faye waved her hand in a vague gesture, trying to express everything that was Lowtown. "I am used to the outdoors anyways."

"That's nonsense, I'd be a terrible cousin if I let you sleep out there, wouldn't I? You can't even imagine the sort of people we've encountered out there. No, you must come to the estate – it belongs to the Amell family, and you are one. The seneschal will give you directions and I shall expect you there when I return home tonight." Ansel said her entire piece with a perfect amount of Aveline in her voice, and Faye was left with no choice but to nod obligingly and murmur something about the Viscount's generosity. In truth, this was only to keep an eye on the Hero while she remained in Kirkwall, and to convince her that Ansel meant no harm.

As the Warden Commander left the office, her shimmering sword swinging with each step, Ansel collapsed into her chair with a heavy sigh.

She'd never expected this to be easy, but the situation had just gotten a lot more interesting.

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><p>AN - As a note, Ansel is not aware of Faye and Cullen's past. (A small part of said past may be found in one of my other fics, 'hollow bones', which is a snapshot of them being friends in their younger years at the Tower.) When she thinks that Faye will be a distraction for Cullen, it's not because of any attraction they share - she simply expects that they'll be too busy arguing between themselves to pay any attention to her. Which is just what Ansel wants.

Next chapter will include Cullen, some actual action, and possibly even the return of a familiar face or two. Faye_ is_ the Hero of Ferelden. She knows a lot of people. Maybe even some blonde, elfy ones.


End file.
